


Unconventional Meditation

by chickabee



Series: How To Train Your Prince [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Gen, OC is in her 20’s, Other, Zuko is still 13-almost-14
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:47:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22060564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chickabee/pseuds/chickabee
Summary: One of the guards on Zuko’s new crew can’t stand watching the prince fuck upbreathingany longer.Or, the author blatantly uses an oc to explore some Zuko headcanons
Relationships: Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar) & Original Character(s), Zuko (Avatar) & Original Female Character(s)
Series: How To Train Your Prince [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1587808
Comments: 16
Kudos: 241





	Unconventional Meditation

**Author's Note:**

> So the adhd!Zuko vibes were completely unintentional at first, but once I started they seemed to fit. The only time this guy “rests” in the entire series is after the siege on the North Pole and also subtlety is the opposite of his forte.
> 
> I’m also playing with some ideas about fire bending like the idea that fire benders are all about control, but that control forces their fire to move in a really unnatural way when they meditate.
> 
> “It took three whole ass years for the crew to learn about Zuko’s scar and why he was banished” my ass.

“I don’t think this is working.”

Anzu doesn’t think the retired general _means_ for his nephew to hear him, probably thinks he can’t with his ear still healing, but it doesn’t change the fact that Prince Zuko very obviously twitches in frustration after he says it. Or maybe it’s a flinch. Anzu can never really tell with people as active-

- _overly aggressive. You can’t hurt me more than I’m already hurting_ -

-as the prince.

But he has a point, it’s not working. ‘It’ being the fire bending techniques General Iroh has been drilling His Highness with for the past...few months. ‘Fire comes from the breath.’ This is the first lesson every fire bender is taught, every fire nation _citizen_ , on the off-chance they might become a bender, from the moment they are born.

Prince Zuko is working through the basics, breathing and meditating. Don’t let the fire burn so hot the candles melt, but don’t let them get so low the fire snuffs out. He’s out on the deck, instead of sequestered in his room for once, because General Iroh convinced him that maybe being in Agni’s sight would help.

It hasn’t.

“ _What_ isn’t working, Uncle?”

There’s a level of venom in His Highness’ voice that makes Anzu grimace behind her mask. That kind of tone would’ve gotten her a solid rap on the knuckles _at the very least_ back home.

The candles in front of the prince flicker and putter out. He scowls at them and grips his pants so hard she thinks they might tear. She swears she can _hear_ his teeth grinding. Has to fight the urge to rub at the left side of her own face-

- _training accident, Lt. Jee says. Bullshit. Since when do_ princes _get sent out to sea with such a vicious still-healing wound. To find the Avatar, who no one has seen in a_ century-

-when the prince’s scar bunches and pinches as he scowls in their vague direction.

General Iroh looks surprised and Anzu can’t tell if it’s at his nephew’s tone or the fact that said nephew could hear him, considering they’re positioned on the prince’s left side. But the general’s voice is as calm and soothing as it has been the entire time they’ve been on this spirits-cursed ship, “There are many breathing exercises meant to help one meditate, Prince Zuko. I merely meant perhaps this particular one isn’t working.”

The prince scowls harder, his voice comes out harsher, “You mean like the last one wasn’t working? Or the one before that?”

It’s painful, watching the young prince have to relearn something they’re all aware he could do before he came to be in their care. Especially for the few benders in the crew, herself included.

And again Anzu thinks how much it doesn’t add up. That a prince would be sent off after a _training accident_ recent enough to have affected his fire bending this deeply. She never worked closely with the prince before this, wasn’t anywhere high enough on the ladder to be allowed into the royal palace on a regular basis. But. Well, she’d at least had the impression the prince could bend. Not a prodigy like his sister, but well enough that the Fire Lord could challenge him to a _fucking Agni Kai_ -

- _disrespect. Refused to fight even as his father, his Lord, ordered him up off his knees. How shameful, but is it really? To not want to fight this man_ -

-because you can’t challenge a non-bender to an Agni Kai. Or even a bender who hasn’t mastered a certain level of technique. There’s a shame to it, a dishonoring of the self-

- _fucking bully_ -

-and she really doesn’t see how her lieutenant can think it was an _accident_. Maybe that’s why the general likes to ask her more than anyone to shadow the prince. Maybe that’s why she agrees, even if he’s as prickly as a boarcupine and snappish as an alligatortoise.

Probably it’s just because they know if she doesn’t exert herself during the day, she has trouble falling asleep, which just makes her grumpy and vaguely unpleasant to be around. She doesn’t _like_ activity, not like the prince seems to, but they all know if she doesn’t wear herself out she’s an absolute _nightmare_.

....she’s not sure she likes the idea that thought gives her.

“There are multiple threads in a single tapestry, my nephew. Just because it is one of many, does not make it any less important in the grander design-“

Prince Zuko slams a fist into the floor and jumps to his feet-

- _too anxious, too active, too much energy with nowhere to go_ -

-and roars, as much as his little body can, “ _WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!_ THE ONLY TAPESTRIES I’VE EVER SEEN ARE OF THE FIRE NATION SYMBOL!” And if that’s true, then yeah, that proverb probably doesn’t make sense. There are only two colors in the Fire Nation flag. Red. Black. More red. _Maybe_ some gold if they’re super fancy. Prince Zuko has run out of colors, out of breathing techniques.

He’s pacing now and Anzu sort of hates that she can see how he looks a little better up on his feet, moving. Because she has an idea. And she’s not sure the little punk will even appreciate it. Or listen.

“I think I might be able to help.”

But she’s already opened her mouth, so she might as well.

The general and the prince turn to face her. The general - jovial, calm. Surprised she’s involving herself before he even asks, but grateful all the same. And the prince - quick and angry as a whip, ready to tear into her already because being thirteen is frustrating and embarrassing in turns, but to be thirteen and struggling with something he used to do with relative ease? Mortifying.

Smoke and ash, she already regrets this.

Prince Zuko opens his mouth, probably to yell something, but by some miracle General Iroh beats him to it, “Oh? Please, share your ideas with us! I always say two heads are better than one.”

Anzu has never heard the general say any such thing, or anything even _like_ it, but His Highness scowls and snarls and sneers enough that, yeah he’s probably got a few proverbs that cover teamwork.

“I don’t see how some _guardsman_ could know how to help any better than you can, Uncle,” the brat spits.

Do not kill him. Do not. Snotty punk or not he’s still a _kid_. A kid who’s lost his fire bending. Or blocked it. Or forgotten. She’ll probably never be sure, and she kind of doesn’t want to know. Ever.

She spends a second or two getting her face under control before removing her helmet entirely. Those things muffle the voice and she’s nowhere near as naturally loud and...shouty as their prince. She props her helmet against her hip and takes a breath, “Well. I don’t think the breathing is the problem.”

The general strokes his beard. The prince watches her with a wariness that’s trying so hard to be cynical but looks too suddenly hopeful to get there. She doesn’t want to know.

“What do you mean, guardsman?” The general asks softly.

Anzu shifts her weight from foot to foot, uncomfortable with the attention even though she offered. “I just mean that. Well, his breathing seems fine. When he can focus-“ oh, he looks outright _mutinous_ at that so she hurries to continue “-I just don’t think. That, uh. Sitting and breathing is the type of person His Highness is?”

Yeah, okay, she should probably be talking to the prince and not the general, but she doesn’t know if he’d listen-

- _don’t listen because they’re not speaking to you anyway_ -

-but figures it can’t hurt to try and turns to Prince Zuko, “It’s kinda unnatural, ain’t it? Meditating like that. I mean, I know it’s about control, everyone does. ‘Fire comes from the breath’ and all. But when did that become ‘Fire comes from sitting and staring at a candle’?”

And now some of the crew are giving her funny looks right along with the two royals on the ship.

Prince Zuko scrunches up his face, “If that’s an attempt at one of Uncle’s proverbs, I think you botched it.”

Anzu huffs and runs a hand through her sweaty hair - damn those helmets are hot - and tries again.

“Ok, let’s think for a second. When you sit and meditate you’re trying to control the candle flame, right? Trying to make it rise and fall with your breathing?” It feels wrong, putting it into such simplistic terms. But her idea is the same principle, just...a different method.

The prince and what few other fire benders are on deck tentatively nod, like she’s a non-bender trying to grasp the idea.

“So maybe just. Don’t sit?”

General Iroh looks like he’s catching on, “Are you suggesting meditating...while...moving?”

She snaps her fingers and points-

- _she could’ve just said that why didn’t she just say that_ -

-“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting! Keep the candles out, but move through the beginners’ katas. Like, think about it. When you sit and meditate the flames are supposed to move in time with your breathing. But that makes them move really unnaturally. Not just growing and shrinking as you inhale and exhale, but like, they don’t move. At all,” and here she can’t help but get a little animated, speaking with her hands as much as her mouth, “I mean, what self-respecting flame doesn’t move, even if it’s staying in one place?”

Even if it’s just on a candle wick, fire dances. It flickers, it quivers, it shivers. It is never _still_ , the way a fire bender’s flame is when they meditate. A rock can be unmoving. A lake can be still. The air can be dead and stifling. 

Fire is always alive.

Anzu sets her helmet on the deck and motions for the prince to follow her. She only leads him a few paces away - enough space he won’t trample the candles, but close enough that he can still feel the tiny flames without exerting himself. He mimics the basic kata stance she falls into, and then the next, and the next, and the next, until he picks up which set she’s performing. They finish the set and then she starts again. He huffs in irritation, but follows her lead a step behind. She paces herself, trying to lead by example, hoping he won’t lose patience. She doesn’t fire bend.

After they’ve worked through the set roughly five times, she calls for him to move on to the next. She doesn’t change pace, but they move in sync now. She still doesn’t fire bend. She maybe exaggerates her breathing a little, so that it’s loud enough for him to hear. She can’t hear him, but she hopes that’s because he’s actually breathing properly.

* * *

Zuko has a dim awareness of the guardsman slipping out of the movement set, but she seems to do it smoothly enough that it doesn’t throw him off his stepping into the next one she calls out.

He isn’t sure if he should feel frustrated at the unspoken rule to not bend fire as he punches and kicks his way around the deck. He can feel the candlelight rising and falling as he breathes. Tries not to get excited that this is _working_.

She had been right. It’s not that he _can’t_ sit still to meditate it’s just that it’s _abnormally difficult_. Even Azula - tempestuous spitfire that she is - comes by it easier than he does. Azula and Father and Uncle can sit for hours. He twitches. He fidgets. He gets frustrated and bottles it up under a veneer of calm that fools absolutely-no-one-apparently.

And then he explodes.

Sometimes he thinks maybe that’s part of the reason Uncle’s tea and pai sho irritate him so much. So much of it requires sitting still and thinking things through and neither of those have ever been mutually exclusive to Zuko. But society and culture has taught him that if he shifts around a little he’s being rude.

If he bounces his leg while he plans his next move he’s being impatient.

If he plays with something in his hands he’s not paying attention.

He stumbles out of a spinning kick, off balance and already irritated-

- _at himself, at the world, why can’t he just get this_ right-

-and whirls around to snap at Uncle and the guardsman, “You don’t have to say it!” He knows he fucked up. He knows they know he fucked up. He doesn’t need _anyone_ telling him how much he’s _fucked up_ how he fucks up _all the time_ —!

“Actually, you were doing pretty good there,” she says, “but I think you started overthinking? Or something. Just a little bit, there at the end.”

His temper stutters to a halt. Her arms are crossed, but her posture’s relaxed. She’s not one of his instructors, so she’s not here to judge him. Has no right to judge _him_ , the firstborn son of the Fire Lord. But...

Well, she’d offered her help, hadn’t she? Without Uncle having to reach out and ask ~~cajole~~ first. And it had worked. For a little bit. Until he started _thinking_.

“No one asked you, peasant!”

Her eye twitches in a way that makes him want to shrink back. It’s a particular type of twitch that his teachers back home had. A twitch that means he’s about to get his hands smacked, or worse-

- _usually worse. Worse than any punishment Azula ever received. Why can’t he put in as much effort as her? Why can’t he mind his manners, be more patient, stop_ playing with that _and_ pay attention-

-but he holds his ground. Thinks he does, anyway. Something in her face shifts a little and she holds up her hands like she’s surrendering.

“I’m just sayin’,” her accent is thicker with irritation, “the point of meditation is to empty your mind, isn’t it? Be at peace and all that shhhiiiii-stuff?”

Uncle grimaces, but doesn’t say anything. He’s accepted that they live a sailor-soldier life now, and swear words are the norm more often than not.

She continues, “I dunno about you, but I try to not think. As much as possible. Makes a lot of things easier. Especially meditation.” Her hands flutter around in the air as she talks, ending up on her hips when she’s done. Like a period after a sentence.

And he hates that she phrases it that way, like they’re classmates trying to solve this problem together instead of an adult talking down to a child. Even Uncle talks down to him sometimes. This is a type of interaction with an adult he’s never had before.

“She is right, Prince Zuko,” Uncle interjects, “You were doing quite well. Your breath was even, and your inner fire was calm.” He’s managed to get a pot of tea started and when the hell did he even go get it? Zuko looks at the position of the sun - he’s getting better at telling time out on the sea - and realizes he lost more time to meditation than he thought.

“How long was I meditating?” he asks incredulously.

“Oh, a good hour or so,” says Uncle. “Here, come have some tea.”

It’s like knowing exactly how much time he spent moving makes his limbs feel heavier than they did a second ago. For once he doesn’t argue with Uncle, just wobbles forward and plops down by the cup Uncle lays out for him. The guardsman looms over him until he looks up at her upside-down face.

“Guess you started thinking too much because your body was getting worn out, huh?”

He scoffs, “I’m not so weak—“

“It ain’t about weakness,” she interrupts sharply. “You been bedridden how long? And trying to get used to a new level of depth perception, right?” She taps her knuckles against his forehead...a lot more gently than he expects, and slowly enough that he sees it coming. “A body as young as yours shouldn’t be pushed that hard anyway. Once you get used to it and relearn your limits, you should be able to tell when you start to wear out. And then you’ll know when to stop before you stumble.”

“But how can I get stronger if I don’t push past my limits?”

Her dark hair brushes his forehead where she tapped him as she leans just a bit closer, “There’s pushing past your limits and then there’s overworking yourself. Think of it like a muscle - which seems appropriate, given the topic. You have to work it, then let it rest. Then maybe you can work it a little more, but you still gotta rest it. It may seem like you’re not getting anywhere, but in the end it’s better for you overall.”

She leans back and takes a cup of tea Uncle offers her with a small thanks, and then wanders over to her typical spot of some unofficial distance away, “Maybe tomorrow we can try for a little over an hour? Or maybe stop right at an hour, since that’s where you seem to start _thinking_.”

Zuko hates himself, just a little, for being excited at the prospect. And also...no one’s ever told him to not push himself before. Except Uncle. But all Uncle ever seems to want is for him to rest, even when he’s nowhere near tired, so it’s more irritating than it is helpful.

He means to say something imperious. Something like Azula would say, something that makes it sound like he’s being _generous_ to listen to a mere guardsman’s idea but it loops around to sounding like it was actually _his idea_ in the first place.

Instead, all that comes out is a soft, “Okay.”

She smiles at him and he maybe hates himself and his own excitement a little less.

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone curious, Anzu is a repurposed Bleach oc lol


End file.
